


The Transience of Dawn

by Garowyn



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garowyn/pseuds/Garowyn
Summary: Itou Kamotarou remembers three early morning moments from his life in the days before his final hour.





	The Transience of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Gintama. It’s all written for fun and no profit whatsoever. 
> 
> This is obviously set pre-Shinsengumi Crisis arc. Title and story partly inspired by Steven Wilson’s “Transience” and “Clock Song,” and Gazpacho’s “Exit Suite” (as well as many other melancholic prog rock songs). I chose this time of day because the final battle ended by dawn, and in daybreak, Itou died when he truly began to live. 
> 
> Many thanks to Ace for their endless support and feedback. This fic is dedicated to you!

“Ensure the crates are secured,” Kamotarou ordered the crewmen responsible for the cargo hold, “I’m certain I don’t have to tell you what will happen should you damage the products inside.”

“Yes, Itou-san!” the men chorused. 

“Very good. I wish to speak with the conductor before we depart.”

“Right away, sir!”

Turning his back to the men dashing off in compliance, Kamotarou strolled down the side of the train, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders set squarely in position, chin lifted slightly, as he inspected the machine.

No longer loudly puffing steam at regular intervals like the first locomotives, the quiet and sleek design of the exterior with cushioned seats within represented the relentless advance of technology and convenience. Ten years ago, no one could have imagined a kind of mechanical dragon speeding throughout the land, curving around mountainous terrain, cutting through forests, and crossing rivers and fields. Travel between Kyoto and Edo, his destination early this morning, was significantly halved from the time it took to travel on foot or by horse and sea.

No one would have foreseen this train and a multitude of ships descending from the heavens, bringing hellfire with them and the end of an era that once greatly valued the samurai. The unpredictability of life was boundless.

The conductor met with him shortly, explaining the schedule and other critical matters related to the freight. “As far as the passengers know, we are simply transporting imported cotton and wool. We have guards posted at every entrance to each car and extra guards placed within the cargo hold. It will be safely delivered to the Shinsengumi headquarters as promised.”

“I will hold you to your word,” Kamotarou replied, peering at the conductor over top of his narrow glasses, “They are made of the finest quality, including a personal gift to Chief Kondou Isao himself.”

The conductor nodded. “Very good, sir.”

“I would hate to lose them to thieving hands unable to resist a samurai’s weapon.” He paused, and then added, “Even if society views us as a dying breed, there are sword collectors willing to pay generous amounts for a single blade once belonging to famous warriors.” 

“You needn’t worry, Itou-san. We have everything under control and will not fail you.” 

“See that you do not.”

The conductor bid him farewell and hurried off to complete preparations for the long journey to Edo.

Ignoring the stares of passengers settling into their seats behind glass windows, Kamotarou walked a little ways further down the platform toward the end of the train. There was still time to spare before boarding. He stopped and inhaled the cool air, and then lifted his eyes above. Beyond the station and the shadowy line of trees, the sky was tinged with pale gold.

“The dawn is lovely.”

Turning to the voice of an elderly woman standing before him, also gazing at the morning skyline, Kamotarou’s stern expression softened to one of geniality. “Yes, madam,” he replied, indulging her apparent need for trivial conversation with a stranger. “Indeed, it is.”

“I thank the gods each time I make it to another dawn,” the woman went on, clutching her handbag in one hand and a cane in the other. “It’s my favourite time of the day.”

Kamotarou simply nodded in silence and turned back to the east.

“But, even so, dawn would be a very fine time to die. Don’t you think so?”

Kamotarou glanced back at her and saw that she was smiling at him. It was an odd statement to make, but he supposed at her age she was well within her rights to speak of morbid matters with a pleasant smile. She must have already made peace with her final fate. 

“Yes,” Kamotarou answered with a smile of his own, “I think it would be.”

* * *

They said Takahisa wouldn’t make it past dawn.

Tiptoeing down the hall, careful not to invite the creaking of the floor, Kamotarou reached his older brother’s room where light lined the bottom of the sliding doors. The lantern was always lit during the nights, especially nights when Takahisa’s cough viciously racked his frail little body. These were the final days, they said. Takahisa, the older twin and cherished heir of the Itou family, was due to die before the early hours of December the thirteenth, which would be their seventh birthday.

Mother would be inside. For the past couple of months, she had slept in Takahisa’s room and tended to his every need along with the help of a household servant or two. She bathed him. She changed his clothes. She told him the tale of the two frogs and their ignorance, as well as the tale of Urashima Tarou’s journey to the Dragon Palace. Before Takahisa fell too ill to concentrate, servants took turns teaching him how to write and read and calculate his numbers. Mother praised his every success.

“My son, my firstborn,” Kamotarou had heard her once say, “May you live long and learn much, and one day surpass your younger brother in knowledge and wisdom.”

Kamotarou didn’t fully understand her words, but he knew enough to understand that she never spoke to him in such an important way with a loving tone. He knew how to write and read and calculate his numbers, too, but that hardly earned more than a brief smile or nod from the servants and Father, too wrapped up in his work and too focused on Takahisa and Mother’s crying to shower Kamotarou with praise.

Takahisa was a sickly child, they said, having shown signs of weakness as an infant when he didn’t gain weight as easily as Kamotarou did. Takahisa wailed more and didn’t learn to crawl until many weeks after Kamotarou achieved the milestone. These were all things the servants had told him when he asked why Takahisa was bedridden most of the time now, baffling the numerous doctors who visited and proclaimed his brother’s illness was beyond their comprehension. 

Once Takahisa had gone outside with him, a smile lighting his mirror of a face before Kamotarou needed glasses. He was thinner, but no less enthused about going to the koi pond at the back of their home to feed and watch the sunlight shimmering across the scales of gliding fish. Afterward, they’d decided to race back to the house. Kamotarou won, of course, he always did, but Takahisa had collapsed on the ground halfway, coughing and wheezing. Servants rushed out to retrieve him with Mother shrieking from the engawa, and Father had dragged Kamotarou away to his study to lecture about the dangers of taking Takahisa outside.

“You must not let him go outside, Kamotarou,” Father said sternly, “Your older brother has a weak constitution. It is better for him to remain indoors. You should know better by now.” 

If Takahisa couldn’t go outside, then Kamotarou would bring the outside to him. Takahisa wanted to see the world as much as he did. When Mother was busy with errands on days when Takahisa could sit up and declare he felt much better, Kamotarou would bring him a flower or a feather or something around the yard that Takahisa could examine and experience. Kamotarou brought him books from Father’s study, and they would read together. When Kamotarou was certain no one would see or find out, he brought a stray cat in from the outside. Takahisa loved cats the most, the way they glided under his hand and how their sandpaper tongues tickled his skin.

“I’m going to get better,” Takahisa would say, smiling and cuddling the cat in his lap, “Then I’ll be able to go school with you and play outside!”

Kamotarou put faith in Takahisa’s dream until they told him Takahisa wouldn’t live to the dawn and his seventh birthday at 6:38 AM, exactly when Takahisa was born. Kamotarou had been born three minutes later.

Pressing his ear against the door, Kamotarou listened for movement. Takahisa coughed once or twice with Mother’s soothing voice following each bout, and then silence for the longest time that Kamotarou considered sleeping right there against the door.

Finally, the groan of floorboards beneath sudden weight signaled Mother moving for the door.

Crawling backward into the shadows, Kamotarou held his breath and waited.

Mother quietly slipped into the hallway, shutting the door almost completely, and walked away, apparently not noticing him. Her long brown hair was fixed into a loose ponytail with several strands sticking to a shiny face. Kamotarou guessed she was going to the bathroom, or maybe to see about preparing an early breakfast for Father before he left to an important meeting with government politicians, or maybe to get Father because Takahisa’s death was coming.

Swallowing, Kamotarou waited a few more seconds and then hurried into his brother’s room.

If Takahisa was going to die, then he should see the sky and the sun and breathe in fresh air instead of this stuffy room that reeked of stale sweat and candle wax. He should go to the koi pond and see them tread along the bottommost part where the water was warmer. That was what Kamotarou had learned from Father when he asked why and how the koi survived through the winter. In his mind, Takahisa was the same kind of fish, able to thrive in better weather. They were on the cusp of winter, and Takahisa, as far as Kamotarou could remember, was always weakest during colder weather when the air irritated his lungs.

Takahisa lay in the center of the room, blanket pulled up to his chin, mouth agape, and chest rising and falling with hollow breaths. Kneeling down and inching closer, Kamotarou stared at Takahisa’s pale round face with a dark sort of greyness beneath his eyes and sandy blond hair matted against his forehead. They had cut Takahisa’s long hair last year when it became too bothersome in washing, resulting in a damp futon if it didn’t fully dry.

“Nii-san,” Kamotarou whispered, nudging Takahisa’s cheek with a knuckle, “Nii-san, wake up.”

Takahisa’s eyes fluttered open, and he coughed once. “K-Kamotarou…?”

“The sun is almost up. We’re going to be seven in five minutes.”

Takahisa fixed his gaze on Kamotarou and managed a weak smile. “Our birthday…”

Kamotarou smiled back and nodded.

“Am… Am I going to die?”

Kamotarou’s smile faded.

Tears filled Takahisa’s eyes. “I don’t want to die. I haven’t even gone to school yet. A-And I want to play with the cat some more…” He gasped, as though choking on his saliva, and then cleared his throat with another cough. “Kamotarou, please…go and get the cat… I don’t want to die...”

“The cat isn’t here,” Kamotarou said, “but I’ll be right here. I’m going to open the door, so you can see the sun when it comes up.” Without waiting for an answer, he jumped to his feet and crossed over to the door leading outside. Sliding it open as soundlessly as possible, Kamotarou stood in the frame way and took a deep breath.

Above the dark outline of rooftops and trees, dawn was in full bloom with deep shades of pink and blue intermingling, chasing away the moon and the last vestiges of night. The cold air floated inward, cleansing the room and chilling his skin through his clothes, and it made him feel so much more alert and alive. It was a wonderful feeling, the crisp beginning of a brand new day, the dawn ushering in their birthday.

Takahisa turned on his side and struggled to push himself upward. 

Kamotarou hurried over and held out his hand. Takahisa took it and Kamotarou pulled him into a sitting position. “See?” He pointed out the doorway, still holding onto Takahisa’s bony, clammy hand. “The sun is coming.”

Takahisa stared at the horizon, face wet with tears, but he had stopped sobbing. 

Kamotarou smiled. “Happy—” 

Sliding the door open with such force that it could have broken under the weight of her fingers, Mother burst into the room, Father in tow. “Takahisa! Takahisa!” She rushed over to the two brothers.

“Why is the door open?” Father demanded, crossing over to close it, but not before sparing a frown at Kamotarou. “Did you open it?”

Kamotarou stood up. “I-I was just—”

Mother slapped him hard across his face.

Stunned, Kamotarou stared wide-eyed at her. She had never struck him before in his life, and he never imagined she would when she barely looked at him now.

“What do you think you are doing, you wretched child??” Mother’s hair was strung wild across her face with red-rimmed eyes and a quivering lower lip. “Takahisa is dying and you’re playing games! Are you trying to speed his death along? Do you so desperately wish for him to die so that you can receive his inheritance?” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him about. “You horrible child! You backstabbing second son—”

“Enough!” Father pried her hands from Kamotarou and pulled her away. “Tend to Takahisa. I will have a servant call for the doctor.”

Mother seemed to remember her firstborn and threw her arms around Takahisa, sobbing. “Takahisa! Oh, my poor boy!”

His ears still ringing with her venomous words and his face burning from the slap, Kamotarou stood rooted to the floor, not knowing what he should do.

Father sighed and looked at Kamotarou. “I do not know what you were thinking, but we will deal with it later. For now, go back to your room, Kamotarou, and pray that your brother survives the morning.” 

Instead of going out into the hallway, Kamotarou went outside instead. Before leaving, he caught sight of Takahisa looking at him, body squeezed against Mother. One trembling hand reached out toward him.

Kamotarou looked down at the floor and quietly closed the door. He turned to the east and thought he might cry, too, but all he could think about was unfinished words and that they had lied when they said Takahisa wouldn’t make it past dawn.

“Birthday…” Kamotarou whispered, watching the rising sun with his stinging cheeks, “Happy birthday, Nii-san.”

* * *

The sun had risen and the journey to Edo was underway.

Seated in the last row of the last passenger car, alone save for two of his subordinates across from him, Kamotarou opened up a letter from Father, guessing its contents consisted of more reminders to visit home before the year was out. Kamotarou last wrote a letter in spring, but hadn’t gone home for the past couple of years. He was simply too busy advancing ahead in his career, concerned with the political matters of the country and the direction they were headed in. A speeding train stopped for no one.

He turned to the second letter. As expected, Mother had also written her own reply. She was deeply disappointed in him for not visiting the family grave in early winter to commemorate the anniversary of Takahisa’s death. Not only that, it was also Kamotarou’s fault that their family’s status had decreased since the establishment of a new era in which high-ranking samurai families were no longer lauded as the ruling class. All the effort invested in his education and travel expenses from his teenage years had been wasted.

He was also to send money as soon as he could to help cover the medical costs of her failing health. Since Takahisa’s death, Mother had always proclaimed how devastated she was, wallowing in her grief over losing the firstborn son, who was meant to become a master of the sword and the head of the family someday. Her perpetual anxieties had led her to this path of prolonged illness and malnutrition, forever commiserating with the unfortunate fate of her firstborn.

Her endless contempt for Kamotarou’s existence used to move him to tears as a child, but he had long since disposed of tears for higher marks, more victories, and further advancements in his budding career as a politician and master swordsman. Tears invoked criticism. Tears rewarded nothing. But perseverance and overcoming one’s obstacles changed everything and opened doors to greater possibilities.

Setting the letter down on his lap, Kamotarou rested a hand on the hilt of his sword for a moment, grateful for the authority he had as a master-teacher of the Hokushin Itto style. Achieving such a prestigious title at a young age was no surprise to him as it was to others, even his own master. Given his talent and perseverance, it was inevitable. Now, he was a step ahead in his plans.

The giggling of two boys distracted him from his thoughts, two heads of light brown hair bobbing up and down as they scampered down the aisle to his end of the car. Their idle prattle halted when they saw him, mouths clamping up. They press their hands to the sides of the seats, steadying themselves, eyes traveling over his person, lingering on his sheathed sword where his hand remained. The eldest of the boys opened his mouth to ask, “Are you a samurai—”

Their mother’s call diverted their attention from him, saving Kamotarou and his subordinates the effort of telling those boys to go back to their seats. Kamotarou lacked the patience needed to deal with spirited children, who had clearly been raised in a more lenient household. Those boys were probably sons of merchants or artisans. The country never lacked a need for trade and commerce, and so the boys already had their futures secured whereas the children of samurai – a class of people the country was trimming from their diet – had to find other ways of making their way in the world without a master to serve. They would become scholars, labourers, or vagrants.

Kamotarou’s ambitions extended far beyond those options. 

Glancing out the window, Kamotarou noted that they were now passing by Lake Biwa. Leaning back against his seat and marveling at the beauty of the lake in the morning sunlight, Kamotarou let his mind drift until it stumbled across another unwanted memory. Had Takahisa survived and grew into better health, Kamotarou imagined that they would be just like those two children, seeking out adventure where they could find it instead of growing apart.

* * *

“Is it true?” Takahisa asked him in the moments before dawn when Kamotarou visited him in secret before journeying to a school famed for the prestigious Hokushin Itto style. “Is it true you took everything from me before we were born?” 

Thirteen-years-old and no longer naïve and optimistic, Kamotarou answered, “You’re finally blaming me for your illness, just like Mother.” He sat cross-legged against the wall, cradling a purring cat in his lap.

Hunched over, Takahisa stared at his hands clutching his blanket. “I’ve been sick for years with no signs of getting better. There must be a reason why.”

“I’m leaving for Edo tomorrow and I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know if I _want_ to come back at all. But you might die while I’m gone, so I should say goodbye now while I can.”

“Mother says you kicked a lot in her belly. It _had_ to be you. You must’ve broken something, like my lungs or my heart. You must’ve stolen away my strength and I was forced to come out first just to get away from you.”

“Do you know what I’d take if I could really steal anything of yours?”

Takahisa looked at him. “What?”

“Your eyesight.”

“Why?”

“I’m healthier and stronger than you except for my eyesight. _You_ have perfect eyesight. Remember when you could see that eagle in the sky, way in the distance, and I couldn’t?” Kamotarou paused, and then added in a quiet voice, “I still don’t know what it was doing down this way…maybe it was lost.” He’d learned of the eagle’s northern habitat from reading one of Father’s books in the study by himself.

“What good is a pair of eyes that see perfectly when I’ve only known the inside walls of the house and yard?”

“Maybe it was going to take one of us away,” Kamotarou mused, “Two is too much. Take away the younger, useless brother—oh, wait, _you’re_ the useless one.” 

Takahisa flinched, as though he’d been slapped. “You think I don’t know I’m a burden? I eat properly, I walk when I’m able to, I take my medicine…I do everything I can to get better and nothing’s working. That’s why I think—I think _you_ have something to do with it!” 

Scratching the top of the cat’s head, watching it close its eyes in contentment, Kamotarou answered, “You’re not a burden. You’re their precious firstborn. You’ll never be a burden to them. But for the rest of the world, you are. Don’t you ever see the servants’ faces? They’re tired of their efforts going to waste. They’re tired of caring for someone who will never be well. You’re a useless burden.”

“Stop it!”

“What you do with useless burdens is find a way to release them. They are obstacles in your path. You have to go around them or through them or destroy them.”

“Shut up!” 

“If you can’t even do that, then there isn’t much point in living.”

_“I hate you!!”_

Takahisa’s words bounced off the walls of Kamotarou’s heart. He had been building a solid, fortified wall for years now, sometimes unknowingly, but it all served a good purpose in the end. A wall kept out the unwanted, the unnecessary, and the unkind. It kept him stable and focused on the path ahead of him. Kamotarou nodded, replying, “That’s fine. I don’t hate you. I don’t feel anything for you because it won’t really matter when you have all the love of Father and Mother. You should be grateful.”

Tears streamed down Takahisa’s face, as he whispered, “I _hate_ you. You took everything from me. You’re always mocking me with your grades, your sword skills, and your _health_. I hate everything about you.”

Kamotarou climbed to his feet and the cat scampered away, out into the fading night. He had forgotten why he had bothered to bring the creature inside in the first place.

Takahisa’s voice rose. “I bet you wished I would’ve died years ago, so that Father and Mother would pay more attention to you. You’re jealous of me!” 

“What is there to be jealous of? Your weak body? Your bedsores? Your lack of knowledge?” Kamotarou pushed his glasses up his nose. “As I said, your perfect eyes are the only thing I would want, but I’ve conquered even that.” Walking to the foot of Takahisa’s bed, Kamotarou stared down at him, a small smile crossing his lips. “You delude yourself, Takahisa. There is nothing about you that I would want. I’ve been selected as the only student to go to Edo, which is slowly becoming the heart of the nation. I’m going to become a highly skilled swordsman, and bring fame and honour to our family. And then I’ll move into politics and advance even further in my career. I’ll be the one accomplishing great deeds for this country.”

Tears continued to flow, and Takahisa soon succumbed to another coughing fit.

“And you? You’ll still be here if you’re fortunate. You, the firstborn son, the heir of the Itou Family…you’ll be here accomplishing absolutely _nothing_.”

“I know what you’re doing!” Takahisa cried, trying to stand to his feet, but failing miserably, falling forward on one knee, as though bowing to Kamotarou. Despite his humble state, his gaze, fixed upon Kamotarou, burned with fire. “You’re not doing any of this for our family! You don’t care what happens to the country! All you care about is our parents’ approval! You want the whole damn world to acknowledge you! You’re _selfish!_ ”

Kamotarou lifted his chin, averted his eyes from the pathetic sight at his feet. Takahisa didn’t have to do anything to earn their parents’ approval, for he’d earned it already by being born three minutes sooner. “You understand nothing, as usual. Selfish means me staying here and wasting my talents when they could be used for the future of the country. Selfish is you thinking the whole world revolves around you and that I should stay in your shadow forever.”

Takahisa spat blood on his blanket, bits of it dribbling down his chin. “I’m your brother, I’m your twin…I know you better than anyone else ever will…”

“If only that were true,” Kamotarou replied, turning away from him and leaving the room. Their parents would soon hear the commotion and come running, as they always did. Kamotarou didn’t want to spend his last day in a cheerless home suffocating from more lectures about respecting his elder brother. There was still more packing to do and more travel arrangements to finalize. He had come to bid Takahisa farewell and it was done.

“Kamotarou!” Takahisa yelled after him between guttural coughs, “ _Kamotarou!_ ”

Walking quietly across the engawa, Kamotarou took note of the brightening sky, the promise of a new life ahead. At long last, he was leaving for something bigger than this house, something more valuable than primogeniture—something that held great need for _Itou Kamotarou_ alone.

  
Kamotarou whispered, “Goodbye…Nii-san.”

* * *

Upon his noon arrival in the city famous for its Amanto presence, Kamotarou saw to the delivery of the swords at the Shinsengumi main headquarters and dojo. Everything progressed smoothly—or would have if Kondou and half the Shinsengumi weren’t still away on a mission that involved escorting the Shogun outside the city for some unknown purpose. Kamotarou suspected it was another absurd excursion concocted by Matsudaira Katakuriko for the young Shogun to gain experience in the leisurely pursuits of the common people. Kondou had recounted anecdotes from such outings to Kamotarou in their letter exchanges. In any case, the Shinsengumi weren’t due to return for a few more days.

Kamotarou decided to report in at the main police headquarters where he worked in the public relations department as a representative of the Shinsengumi, do what he needed to do there, and then retire at his favourite inn instead of staying at the Shinsengumi complex. Time was precious, and he would spend it wisely by rendezvousing first with Kawakami Bansai, who was in Edo again, and this time he wasn’t alone. At least through separate lodging, he could avoid unwanted questions from the Shinsengumi concerning his whereabouts.

As the day wore on, Kamotarou thought back to the first time he had met Kondou and the Shinsengumi, years ago in the twilight between the old and new eras. Back then, as they still were now, the newly Amanto-influenced government had been hunting down Joui patriots and executing them. The country was divided. Swords were banned except for those authorized to carry them. The time of the samurai was rapidly ending and the rise of technology dominated everyday life now. Knowing this, Kamotarou had sought new ways to announce his presence and display his impressive caliber. Associating with exclusionists had gone nowhere; becoming a ronin was unthinkable.

Joining the ranks of a rising police force that had recently found favour with the Shogun was the way to do it.

“They’ve got a new name, now,” Matsudaira had said when Kamotarou joined him inside the Roshigumi dojo, watching the rowdy group of men with their annoying rural accents jumbling together in discussion of the newly constructed space terminal. “Much fancier for country boys rising up the ranks. That’s why I’ll need you to watch over them since that snob Sasaki passed them up. They’re rough around the edges, but that’s what I like about them.”

“What is their name now?”

“The Shinsengumi.”

Before Kamotarou could say more, a wave of hostility tingled his senses and he abruptly turned away from Matsudaira, seeking the source until he found it leaning cross-armed against the wall, staring hard at him, almost glaring, like a demon.

Right from the very first moment he had laid eyes on that man, Kamotarou knew that Hijikata Toushirou was going to be an obstacle.

* * *

“Whew! You really know how to put up a fight,” Kondou said, patting his forehead with a towel one afternoon during a training session with the Shinsengumi. “But that’s to be expected from a master of the Hokushin Itto style!”

Removing his glasses and fetching a cleaning cloth from within the folds of his practice outfit, Kamotarou shook his head. “It was not an easy victory. You are quite skilled, yourself.” 

Lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck, Kondou gave the kind of modest laugh someone offered when embarrassed but pleased over a compliment, and thanked Kamotarou for his kind words. Kamotarou privately noted that Kondou seemed the kind of person who could be gradually influenced toward another, more favourable viewpoint.

“Will you join us in a drink tonight to celebrate?” Kondou asked, when they stepped off to the side to cool down and observe the rest of the practice matches.

“What are you celebrating?”

Kondou grinned. “New uniforms, of course!”

“Ah, of course.” Kamotarou had received the new uniform himself a week in advance and had been there with Matsudaira when they were presented to the Shinsengumi as a whole. Now wearing official and modern uniforms, the Shinsengumi’s morale had been high and jovial all day, some even joking that they hated to change out of them for practice sessions. “Yes, I will join you for a bit…”

Hearing the continuous clack of shinai, Kamotarou shifted his attention to the match between Hijikata and Okita, watching the former in particular.

The most noticeable change other than the uniform was Hijikata himself, now devoid of the long mane he’d walked into Edo with. His hair had been cut short except for the longer fringes all around. Bits of it stuck out wildly in a final act of defiance. Itou had a feeling Hijikata would always be the hair that stood out of place no matter how much one tried to comb it down into obedience.

In the end, Okita emerged victorious, earning a few claps and congratulatory words from their peers. Okita didn’t bask in the praise, choosing to walk to the sidelines, but Kamotarou caught sight of a small smile and triumph in the younger man’s deep crimson eyes, as he stole a glance at Hijikata. More than once, Kamotarou had witnessed Okita’s attempts to remove Hijikata from his seat of power by publicly playing up his flaws, humiliating him in some way, or else openly attacking him. As far as Kamotarou could tell, Okita wasn’t too serious about killing Hijikata, though he joked often about it in a deadpan manner, but there was mutual friction between the two men that Kamotarou suspected ran deeper than mere age gaps and personality differences. The only thing they seemed to agree on was following and protecting Kondou. 

Kamotarou would keep these observations in mind for future use.

“Vice-Chief will win next time,” one of the men said, others agreeing with him, “It’s always one or the other.”

“Well done, Sougo, Toushi!” Kondou called out to them, ever encouraging of all his men, regardless of their status or health or birth order.

Though he wore a stony expression, Hijikata didn’t seem all that bothered by the loss. He wordlessly accepted a hand towel from Yamazaki and then told the gawking recruits to get back to their evening chores or else they would have to commit seppuku.

“They appear almost evenly matched,” Kamotarou remarked to Kondou, “Impressive.”

“They are,” Kondou replied proudly, “We all trained at the same dojo. Sougo was already a member, but it took some time to persuade Toushi to join us. Both had a natural aptitude for the sword, but dramatically improved their technique once they got some training in!” He looked at Kamotarou with a smile. “Say, I haven’t seen you fight Toushi yet. Why don’t you square off with him now?” 

Hijikata, who had just now reached the two men, narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Kondou-san,” he said, shooting a brief glance at Kamotarou. Except to confer on important matters, the two men had rarely spoken in the last month since Kamotarou had joined the Shinsengumi. Ordinarily, Kamotarou wouldn’t mind, but it was starting to annoy him. When Hijikata wasn’t keeping to himself, he freely interacted with the rest of the men, whether through ordering them around or offering his opinion now and then to those that joined his table in the mess hall. It was clear as day that Hijikata avoided Kamotarou whenever he could. 

“It should be fine,” Kondou replied, “Both of you just finished a match, so you’re warmed up and on equal ground. It should be an interesting match.”

The other Shinsengumi chorused their agreement, apparently eager to view a match between their vice-chief and the advisor. Kamotarou had intended to gauge Hijikata’s strengths soon, but not this soon. However, he didn’t want to appear unwilling in front of the men, like he was afraid to answer a challenge. Pushing his glasses up his nose, Kamotarou gave a curt nod and stepped forward. “Very well, I’ll take up the match – _if_ Hijikata-kun agrees to it. I wouldn’t want to pressure him into sparring with me if he doesn’t want to.” 

As expected, Hijikata reacted with a glare to the suggestion that he might be too intimidated by Kamotarou’s skill to indulge him in a match. “I’ll spar with you – that is, _if_ you don’t mind fighting a lowborn country boy like me.”

“Not at all,” Kamotarou replied smoothly, fixing an amiable smile upon his face, hiding his vexation over Hijikata’s own implications of highborn snobbery. This was the most Hijikata had said to him all week. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They took their positions opposite one another, bowing and then moving forward, following all proper protocol in spite of the resentment brewing between them. Kamotarou adjusted his glasses, Hijikata rolled his shoulders, and together they lifted their shinai and held them at the ready. All chatter faded to whispers, and soon a great hush fell upon the entire room in anticipation of a match between two of their best swordsmen. Kamotarou inhaled deeply, knowing Hijikata was not going to be like past opponents.

Kondou called out, “Begin!”

Instantly, their shinai clacked together with Kamotarou attacking first.

Hijikata’s fighting style was similar to Kondou and Okita’s, owing to their shared background, but with noticeable differences. Kondou was dignified and disciplined. Okita was swift and precise. Hijikata was fierce and inelegant, even in his defensive measures, but Kamotarou didn’t allow himself to be swept up in hasty judgments that might lead to a misstep. He suspected many an adversary had made that fatal mistake in assuming Hijikata’s wild intensity spoke of inexperience and overconfidence. No movement was wasted, and for a moment, Kamotarou felt as though he were striking at a wall instead of a man.

And not only that—Hijikata was _testing_ him. Kamotarou intended to do the same thing, but the very idea that Hijikata viewed their match as a kind of experiment and was purposely withholding his offensive strikes to gauge Kamotarou’s tactics…

It was infuriating and it caused him to dislike Hijikata even more.

Hijikata did not have to work hard to earn acknowledgment from his comrades or even his superiors. Prior to joining the Shinsengumi, Kamotarou had heard the stories about a demon among the band of countryside samurai, inadvertently creating a legend for himself that his comrades and enemies would pass around to one another, uttering his name with fear and respect.

Okita, a prodigy himself, didn’t carry the same vibe. Everyone acknowledged Okita’s skill, but with Hijikata, there was skill and leadership and admiration combined. Many of the men hadn’t joined the Shinsengumi just for Kondou; they had also joined because they were eager to follow and learn from Hijikata.

The more Kamotarou thought about it, the angrier he grew, and it affected his movements. He fought to keep that from becoming noticeable, but the slightest curve of an amused smile on Hijikata’s normally flat-lined mouth signaled the fact that he had picked up on Kamotarou’s temporary slip into predictability. Hijikata was quick to take advantage of it, seizing the offense and driving Kamotarou backward, step by step.

Kamotarou gnashed his teeth. He was not going to stand for it any longer. He would show Hijikata what a master of the Hokushin Itto style was capable of doing. Swiftly gaining control of his temper, Kamotarou summoned a mental state of composed concentration and countered Hijikata’s fierce attacks until they were back on even ground, seeking weak points within their defenses.

Then, something changed.

Maybe it was the realization that he had finally found someone equal to his skill level. Maybe it was the thrill of real battle separated only by the limitations of their shinai. Or maybe it was the sudden absence of the Shinsengumi’s presence and the feeling that they were now the only two people in the room. Whatever it was, the adrenaline rush Kamotarou was experiencing sent a chill throughout his body, awakening the most primitive of his survival instincts and a desire to eradicate his enemy down to the very last breath.

Both of them were fighting to kill.

As if coming to the same conclusion, Hijikata’s eyes took on a feral glint that Kamotarou knew he mirrored exactly. This match was a warning to one another, to be on their guard before each other, and to never forget that.

Someone behind Kamotarou sneezed.

Hijikata’s eyes flicked to the source for a split-second and it was all Kamotarou needed to strike and win with his shinai pointed at the side of Hijikata’s exposed neck.

Kondou declared Kamotarou the winner, and the men erupted into cheers, proclaiming the match one of the best they had witnessed in long time. Panting, Kamotarou lowered his shinai and stepped back from Hijikata.

“That was exciting to watch,” Kondou said, “I almost thought it could go on forever!”

“Or at least until Hijikata’s lungs die on him,” Okita remarked, standing next to Kondou, shinai resting on his shoulder, “Listen to him – he’s wheezing like an old dog out of shape.” 

“I’m not wheezing,” Hijikata snapped, his forehead shining with sweat. “And, anyway, what’s with you and your sudden summer cold? You deliberately distracted me with that fake sneeze of yours!”

Okita shrugged. “I can’t help it if someone is slandering me behind my back. Anyway, a samurai shouldn’t be easily distracted. Did you not pay attention back in the dojo, Hijikata-san?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That’s disappointing. I used to respect you.”

Hijikata clenched his jaw. “You’ve never had any respect for me at all, you snarky little brat. Go die.”

Before he could hear more of their bickering, Kamotarou found himself surrounded by comrades, patting him on his back and shoulders, congratulating him. It was still strange to receive praise and admiration when he had endured bullying and scuffling from his fellow students for besting them easily in swordsmanship and academics. But Kamotarou accepted all of it, and told them that Hijikata was equally deserving of praise. It was the right thing to do, to remain humble in their eyes, so that there would be no room for doubt in his leadership.

He chanced a look at Hijikata, who was staring hard at him—no, staring beyond him, staring right through him, staring like Takahisa had the last time they spoke.

Kamotarou looked away, pushed Takahisa’s ghost out of his mind.

The Shinsengumi wasted no time in preparing to celebrate their new uniforms. The dojo was cleaned, the bathhouse used in succession, and soon they were gathered in the common room. The men broke out the sake bottles and passed cups around, pouring for one another, their laughter rising. Kondou asked Kamotarou to open the evening’s celebrations with a few words, and he easily devised a sententious speech, encouraging all to devote their hearts and their swords to serving the nation. His words were met with applause and further toasting to their new advisor and his impeccable skills. Kondou poured him sake and flashed his teeth in a happy grin.

Here Kamotarou found a challenge in fitting in with an irregular military police force. Less than half of them barely had a formal education growing up—at least, not as formal as his had been, and so conversation stimulating enough for his standards was few and far between. Petty arguments sprang up here and there, quickly subdued by a sharp word from Hijikata, and then the instigators were friends again. The relaxed atmosphere was no doubt a comfort to all, but Kamotarou didn’t feel the same way. He was still on the outside, a mere observer, but he was content with that.

Kamotarou drank a little, preferring not to lose himself or his senses in the exuberant atmosphere. The thirstiest drinkers were on the verge of passing out, hunched over their laps or else trying to steady themselves along the wall in hopes of reaching the washroom before their stomachs gave out.

“Can I pour you another drink?” Kondou asked when Kamotarou’s cup had nearly emptied.

Lifting a hand to decline, Kamotarou answered, “No, I shouldn’t drink too much tonight.”

“Toushi’s the same way. He won’t drink too much because sometimes he can’t handle his alcohol well!”

“ _Kondou-san_ ,” Hijikata’s voice cut in, gruff and irritated, “It’s not that I can’t handle it, but I prefer not to get drunk in the company of strangers.”

“I see no strangers here,” Kondou said, and while his eyes were full of merriment, his tone held a measure of sternness. “Only a room full of friends and comrades.”

“It’s all right, Kondou-san,” Kamotarou said, plastering on a cordial smile, “I understand Hijikata-kun perfectly. I, too, am careful not to reach a dangerous state of inebriation before people I don’t know well or trust not to be enemies.” He saw Hijikata give him a sidelong glance, but otherwise stayed quiet. “But, regrettably, Matsudaira-san and I have an early morning meeting with politicians, so it’s best that I don’t drink too much. In fact, I should retire soon—”

“Stay awhile! This is the first time we’ve been able to drink together and who knows when we’ll get another chance to enjoy ourselves like this?”

Against his better judgment, Kamotarou agreed to stay and visit for five minutes more.

Taking some time to observe the men after Kondou paused in their conversation to address a brief skirmish in the corner of the room, Kamotarou was soon distracted by a disgusting sight: Hijikata squeezing a generous portion of _mayonnaise_ into his mouth from a bottle Kamotarou didn’t know the man possessed. As if that weren’t enough, Kamotarou’s frown deepened when nobody commented on the gluttonous display. 

In that moment, Kamotarou despised Hijikata for wasting his good health with cigarettes and fattening concoctions and living for a quarter of a century already. There were people in the world that couldn’t get out of bed because of their weak bodies, and this man with his strong body and perfect eyesight was _willingly_ breathing in poisonous fumes and consuming too many calories than was necessary. These habits would never be accepted within the Itou household. 

Here among the Shinsengumi, Hijikata’s habits were regarded as strange but not strange enough to detract from his authority and stature as the second-in-command. The men accepted Hijikata as he was, as they did the eccentricities of Kondou, Okita, and the other captains. As far as Kamotarou could tell, no one had to work as hard as he did to be accepted, and he had done it by shaping and refining himself into the very best stonework there was: impenetrable, immovable, and impassive in the face of tribulation. Nothing and no one stood in his way for long. 

Hijikata must have caught him staring, for he remarked, “Is there a problem, _Sensei_?”

Unimpressed with the flippant use of a title Kondou had given him out of sincerity and gratitude, Kamotarou arched an eyebrow and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’d recognize that look of disgust anywhere. You don’t approve of mayonnaise?”

Whether he approved of mayonnaise or not wasn’t the point, especially when Kamotarou preferred furikake and anything else to mayonnaise on his meals – _meals_ , and not a condiment by itself like a snack. “I’m merely… _amused_ by your choice to consume directly from the bottle.”

Hijikata twisted the cap shut on the bottle and deposited it within his kimono sleeves. “How else would I eat it?”

There was the slightest twitching of a vein in his temple. Kamotarou didn’t know if Hijikata was being deliberately obtuse or not in order to draw him into a silly discussion, and replied, “I don’t know if a samurai should indulge in something that might be detrimental to his health.”

“I didn’t know you were so concerned about my health,” Hijikata said, lifting his sake cup to his lips. “Just admit you think it’s disgusting and be done with it. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Trying to ignore the stares that were beginning to fly their way, knowing he had to be careful about treading forward lest he lose their respect, Kamotarou took a breath and responded, “There’s no need to be defensive. I am simply stating that it might be wise to spend time cultivating healthier habits as a samurai.”

Hijikata put down his cup and stared at him. “Oi, Megane…you’re starting to annoy me.”

Bristling at the nickname, Kamotarou replied, “I might say the same to you.”

“So say it. Don’t hold your true opinions back for my sake.”

“Okay,” Okita said from behind them as he strolled by, being the only one not drinking on account of his age. “Hijikata-san, I think you should consider a career change and become a garbage disposal since you already fill your body with so much trash. I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time, so I’m glad to finally get it off my chest. I feel so much better now.”

“I wasn’t talking to _you_ ,” Hijikata said, his cold expression breaking into a scowl at the younger man. “Get lost.”

Kamotarou cleared his throat. “Hijikata-kun, I hold no further opinion beyond what I’ve made clear already. And even if I did, it’s out of respect for Kondou-san that I would hold my tongue—something that you appear to have trouble doing.”

“I find that hard to believe when you have a habit of proclaiming your opinions every chance you get. You’re more talkative than a drunken salaryman complaining to the bartender about his job, his landlord, and his rebellious son and daughter, who don’t want to be seen with him anymore because he keeps embarrassing them with stupid jokes.”

Kamotarou blinked at the elaborate description, but chose not to address it. “At least I can hold a civil conversation instead of grunting and snapping at everyone like a wild dog—”

“What did you call me?” Hijikata growled.

“You heard me,” Kamotarou replied with a frown, “Or has an overconsumption of mayonnaise affected your hearing, as well?” Somewhere inside of him, he knew he ought to quit while he was ahead, but everything about Hijikata right now was irritating him to the highest degree, and the added effect of alcohol only served to augment his stormy mood.

Hijikata’s hands rolled into fists. “Are you looking for another fight? I’ll fight you right now, you four-eyed bootlicker!”

“I accept your challenge anytime, you _unruly_ , obsessive—” Kamotarou stopped when his ears picked up on chuckling from most of the surrounding men.

“What the hell is so damn funny?” Hijikata demanded the question that was also on Kamotarou’s mind.

“Now that’s more like it,” Kondou said, chuckling himself, and Kamotarou realized that he couldn’t even remember when Kondou had sat back down between the two of them. “The tension has dissolved, and you two are bickering like you’ve known each other for years, like you’re old friends.” 

“We’re not!” Kamotarou shot back in spite of himself, and cursed the fact that Hijikata said the exact same thing at the exact same time. They exchanged glares and turned away from each other.

“I’m glad because all that politeness between you two was beginning to make me nervous.” Kondou grinned, reaching out to pat both Kamotarou and Hijikata’s shoulders. “Now I can relax! You two are going to get along just fine.” 

“If that’s getting along, then I would hate to see them when they’re _not_ getting along,” Yamazaki remarked from the side.

Chatter resumed, and Kamotarou drained the last of his cup, working to compose himself once more, as he listened to Oka, captain of the seventh division, talk about the last successful mission – or _tried_ to listen. His mind was reliving the last few minutes. Not since the younger days with his twin had he been drawn into a petty argument with somebody like this—and so _easily_. Hijikata’s utter disregard for everything Kamotarou valued in life – proper conduct, graceful swordplay, and good health – grated on his nerves like nothing else had in years. 

After another minute, feeling the pull of sleep and the makings of a headache, Kamotarou rose from the floor. “Excuse me, Kondou-san, but I believe I should retire now. I will see you in the morning.”

Kondou nodded, sending him off with a warm smile. “Good night, Sensei! It’s good to have you with us.”

Kamotarou returned the smile, saying, “Likewise, I’m honoured to work alongside you as a member of the Shinsengumi.” Avoiding Hijikata’s eyes, Kamotarou then nodded to those who bid him well for the night on his way out of the room.

The night passed by quickly, and soon Kamotarou’s internal clock roused him from a dreamless sleep. Opening his eyes to a dark and silent room, he mentally went down a checklist of tasks for the day, including the politicians’ meeting, followed shortly by lunch with Matsudaira to discuss the future of the Shinsengumi. Afterward, he would confer with Kondou about the new regulations for city patrols and how exactly the Shinsengumi would function alongside the local police force. If there was time after a private practice session and the evening meal, he would resume his reading of a medical science book, translated from Dutch into Japanese. While he had no plans to enter the medical field, obtaining any kind of knowledge never hurt, and he was curious about advancements made a decade since his twin had died.

Reaching for his glasses and slipping them on, he sat up and raked a hand through his hair, yawning and blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. The longer he lingered in his futon, the more time he lost for making the most of his day. All successful people rose early and started ahead of their competitors. Sleep was a necessity, not an indulgence.

But there was one habit he had yet to break.

He stepped outside onto the engawa, inhaling the fresh, cool air. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten from a deep and dark blue to a pale shade, distinguishing itself from the glow of a city only half-asleep. Dawn was close at hand.

And so was Hijikata.

Only slightly surprised that the strict second-in-command was already awake, Kamotarou walked the length of two more rooms to where Hijikata was sitting outside, watching the horizon with a cigarette in hand. There was a strong possibility of a hostile greeting or a cold shoulder, and if he was honest with himself, Kamotarou really did not want to talk to the man at all. However, they were going to be in each other’s presence for a while, so he would make the effort to keep their interactions moderately civil for the time being. Kondou cherished Hijikata, who probably felt the same way, and that was something to keep in mind.

Stopping a few feet away, Kamotarou spoke quietly, “I see you are an early riser, as well.”

Exhaling wisps of smoke, Hijikata remained silent, and Kamotarou was going to continue onward when Hijikata said, “Sleeping late results in wasted time and laziness.”

Taking his words as a sign that Hijikata was not, at least, _openly_ holding a grudge for last night’s argument today, Kamotarou nodded in agreement. “And not only that – one misses out on the best part of the day.” He stood in place, waiting, wondering if he should say more or continue about his business.

Hijikata stayed puffing on his cigarette. A closer examination revealed a dark tint beneath Hijikata’s eyes, and Kamotarou wondered if the man had slept much at all. Maybe he suffered from nightmares, but Kamotarou couldn’t think of what might disturb Hijikata’s nights, and was fairly certain that he didn’t wake up thinking of disappointed mothers and fears of failure and the final conversation with a lost brother.

Taking a chance, Kamotarou said, “Kondou-san speaks highly of you. In spite of our obvious disparities in viewpoints, I truly admire your candor and skills. It is my hope that we can get along from here on out for the sake of the Shinsengumi.”

Hijikata glanced at him once with no change in his blank expression. Kamotarou waited. Placating stormy tempers with carefully chosen words in order to gain one’s trust and acknowledgment of his efforts was his specialty. Even the most stubborn would accept his guidance in the end.

Finally, Hijikata said, “You want to know something, _Sensei?_ ”

“What is it?”

“I really can’t stand you.”

“Oh? I’m not entirely fond of you myself,” Kamotarou replied, the unsurprising admission bouncing off his heart’s wall like an arrow askew. Most of the men had welcomed him into their midst with open arms, but Hijikata guarded himself closely, as expected, showing that he would only work with Kamotarou as long as Kondou ordered him to. The man’s loyalty to his general would one day be his undoing.

Deciding that it was pointless to try and change Hijikata’s mind about him now, Kamotarou added, “You’re an unpleasant, ill-tempered man whose uniform and government-issued identification are all that separates him from any ruffian on the streets.”

“And that’s why I can’t stand you,” Hijikata shot back, “You have the stench of a man obsessed with prestige and proper upbringing—and _power_. I could smell it from the very first time we met – you looking down on all of us, like we’re beneath you because we came from the countryside or didn’t graduate from the best schools or trained under famous masters.” 

Resisting the urge to sigh, Kamotarou calmly listened, long accustomed to hostile and jealous rants from those who could not accept him and his superior skills and steady success. 

“I know your type exactly. You don’t fool me with all your grand speeches. You don’t care about helping Kondou-san and the Shinsengumi rise above. You’re in this for yourself because it benefits you and your vain ambition. You’re doing this because you want the whole damn world to acknowledge you.” 

Kamotarou stiffened at the choice of wording that awakened a painful memory he wanted to bury deep within him until he forgot it existed. Jaw muscles tightening, the shock was swiftly replaced with a growing rage that he fought to suppress because he didn’t want to lower himself to Hijikata’s level where men acted on impulse, quick to brawl and disorder the world around them.

No, he wasn’t going to let Hijikata and Takahisa have the satisfaction of knowing they were right.

Releasing a calming breath, Kamotarou chuckled and said, “Are you so threatened by my friendship with Kondou-san that you would resort to petty remarks and insinuations? Are you afraid I’ll replace you as Vice-Chief of the Shinsengumi? You needn’t worry, Hijikata, as I have no interest in disrupting your hierarchy, especially when I will be working in a different department altogether. Given time, you will see that I have only the best of intentions in mind.” Kamotarou stared ahead at the pale golden ridge of light on the horizon. “This is a new era we’re entering into, and if we don’t cooperate with one another, the Shinsengumi may fall to ruin. We have to show this country that the samurai are still here. We have to show them that we’re strong.”

Hijikata said nothing in return. They stayed silent for a while, watching the sun slowly unveil itself, rays of light spreading out like hands reaching across the city.

“Itou…know this.” Hijikata looked up at him straight on with his eyes the colour of the pre-dawn sky hardened into stone. “If you ever threaten Kondou-san…I will find out and I will kill you.” 

This was not an idle threat, Kamotarou knew. He had sensed it during their fight, that laws and uniforms and one’s own bushido would not stop Hijikata from protecting or avenging his general. One day, Hijikata was going to be the only obstacle left in the path to the glory Kamotarou believed he deserved more than anyone else. And like all other obstacles, he would destroy them down to the last fragment.

“Hijikata…if you ever threaten me or undermine my authority…I will know and I will _certainly_ kill you.”

And for the first time, they smiled at each other, and they were cold and cruel smiles warning the other to be on their guard because they both knew what to expect from the enemy.

Then, with his smile fading and his steady gaze boring into Kamotarou, Hijikata said, “You have no one to protect but yourself.”

Choosing to remain silent, Kamotarou looked away, irritated by the flicker of some other emotion in Hijikata’s eyes—pity or another useless thing. This ill-mannered hooligan had no right to look down on him when Kamotarou had achieved nearly everything he wanted and needed.

 _“I’m your brother, I’m your twin…I know you better than anyone else ever will…”_  

After Hijikata retreated to his own quarters, Kamotarou murmured, “I’m fine with being alone. I always have been.”

* * *

His deeply ingrained habit led him to the rooftop of the inn one early morning before the Shinsengumi’s return to Edo with the Shogun.

Here above the third floor, overlooking a courtyard of trees and a pond and a vast rock garden, where the tranquil sound of a bamboo fountain drifted upward, Kamotarou stood and waited for something to change before the breaking of dawn began. Absently, he touched the side of his face, the stinging pain of a decades old wound still fresh in his memory. That had been the turning point. That had been the true beginning of his life. That had been when he realized nothing would ever change. 

But still, year after year, he hoped to be proven wrong.

Lifting his gaze above the city line to the gathering of clouds in shades of gold and bronze. The beauty of dawn was a timeless subject of poets and the soldier’s relief from a torturous night under siege. But for him, the dawn signaled the beginning of a new day that usually turned out just the same as before with little to no changes except in what his evening meal would consist of, or how many politicians to charm, or criminals to hunt and execute. Still, he would immerse himself in the stillness of the early morning and believe – just for a moment – in the promise that something would change and that the hollowness in his soul would be filled with more than sunlight.

That maybe the new memories of laughter and smiles would be burned up into disintegration and so empty him of a first-time hesitation to move forward in his life. 

He had many friends and supporters within the Shinsengumi now. They believed in his vision of the nation’s future, and the time to prove their loyalty was just around the corner. Joining the Shinsengumi had brought about unexpectedly fond memories, but his time with them would not last forever. Kondou was a good man and an admirable samurai, but he had let himself grow soft with the last few years of peace. If he remained their leader, the Shinsengumi would likewise grow soft and eventually weaken. A leader needed to be sturdy and ruthless, cut away the dangerous elements and strengthen the organization; dye them all a new colour lest they bleed red and dry.

Kamotarou had found a way to do that. 

The meeting with Kawakami had gone tremendously well – better than he expected. It was almost too easy, and while he ought to be at least a little suspicious of that, the thrill of knowing he was on the verge of achieving another monumental goal dominated all other thoughts.

In a few days’ time, he would finally meet with the elusive Takasugi Shinsuke of the Kiheitai and commence the first step of his plan to eventually supersede Kondou’s authority. The Shinsengumi would be the foundation for Kamotarou’s rise to greater and more influential power, and the Kiheitai wouldn’t realize until the last second that they were being manipulated to eventually take the blame for Kondou’s demise.

The only obstacle was Hijikata Toushirou, but if Kondou fell, then Hijikata wouldn’t be able to go on without him – that much Kamotarou was certain. He had long observed and witnessed the level of devotion Hijikata held for Kondou. It could almost be said that Kondou was Hijikata’s sole weakness, and Kamotarou planned to exploit that weakness to its fullest. As a basic tenet of military strategy alone, it was too dangerous to let a knowledgeable enemy – one who understood him more than anyone else, more than his twin brother could have – live.

With one swift strike, Kamotarou would rid himself of the most dangerous anti-government force in the country and transform the Shinsengumi into an army under his command. From there, the possibilities were endless. He was a brilliant man – who wouldn’t want him on their side and leading their country?

Maybe then, Mother would finally praise him, and then he would dismiss her words to her face as inconsequential. Once he gained full inheritance of the Itou estate and became head of the family, he would be a man free of their influence. He didn’t need his parents. He didn’t need the Shinsengumi. He didn’t need anyone at all. Eventually, everyone would leave him in the end, so it was better to leave them first.

A stray bobtail cat jumped up on the rooftop ledge and pattered toward him, calico and silent. Kamotarou stretched his hand out toward the animal, letting it sniff his fingertips before running its head underneath his palm. Kamotarou scratched its ears and stroke the length of its back, and then watched as the cat found something else of interest and continued its journey along the ledge.

“Itou-san.”

Kamotarou half-turned at a man’s voice, and saw a member of the hotel staff emerging from the stairwell. He was assigned to accommodate Kamotarou’s needs as a high-ranking samurai and a member of the Shinsengumi.

“Your breakfast has been prepared and delivered to your room,” the man continued, walking toward him. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” Kamotarou replied, “Thank you for informing me. I shall return to my room shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” The man then nodded his head toward the eastern horizon. “Ah, a fine sight that is – the coming of a new day. Did you come up here to see it?”

“Yes, it is my favourite time of the day. The dawn is lovely,” Kamotarou answered, and then, upon remembering an old woman’s peculiar words, added, “Dawn would be a very fine time to die.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Kamotarou shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the horizon. “It is nothing. Prepare a letter for me, and inform Chief Kondou Isao that my return to headquarters will be delayed by a week. I have a few more meetings to arrange and attend, and by then, I should be due to arrive with good news for the Shinsengumi. In the meantime, I hope they will enjoy the gift I have left for them.”

The man bowed his head in acknowledgment of the order. “Right away, Itou-san.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Kamotarou watched the horizon until the dawn faded into blazing sunlight.


End file.
